Dance With Me
by Obiwanakin
Summary: Your name is Dave Strider, and you can't believe you actually did it. DaveJohn for the masses. Rated for Dave's mouth.


Your name is Dave Strider, and you weren't nervous.

No, you weren't nervous. Not nervous at all.

Holy _fuck_, you were nervous as all hell.

You can't believe you actually did it, you put the note in John's locker. It wasn't just any note, though. This note was special. On the note, you'd scribbled a simple request.

_'hey egbert go to the valentines dance with me?'_

But you couldn't believe you'd actually gone through with it. Now you were sitting in your last period class practically shaking in your seat. Your heart was thudding a mile a minute as you watched the clock above the whiteboard tick both too fast and too slow down to three o' clock.

What would John think of you after he read the note? He'd know you were into him, and he'd be so appalled that he'd probably throw himself off of a cliff in a desperate attempt to get away from you. Okay, that was a little dramatic, but he would definitely be freaked out.

The bell rings and as you gather your things, you're about ready to scream out loud. You leave the class room, heading to your locker, surprised that you can even walk with your knees shaking the way they are. You spot your locker and _oh my god, John's already there_. You're not sure how you're even still breathing with this nervousness constricting your chest, but you manage to walk coolly up to your locker.

"Sup." You manage to say calmly as you spin your combination.

"Hey, Dave. So, uh, I got your note." John looks down at his feet, a blush flushing his neck and cheeks red.

You open your locker, stuff your books inside, then slip on your shades. "And?" You ask, turning to the other boy. Holy fuck, how are you even playing this off so easily? Jfc, Strider, you are so awesome.

He smiles up at you shyly while he twiddles his fingers. "And I'd love to go with you."

"Oh, wel- wait, you will?" Your jaw drops. Wow, I take that back. Jfc, Strider, you are so uncool it should be taken note of and dealt with by the courts of God Himself.

John, unaware of your internal dilemma with these celestial authorities, nods. "Yeah. Hehe, to be honest, I wanted to ask you, but I was too scared you'd say no."

His words sink in for a moment. John _wasn't _freaked out. In fact, _he'd_ wanted to ask_ you_. You hardly notice the grin spreading across your face. "Okay, I'll pick you up at six-thirty."

John nods again, more animatedly this time. "Sure, okay."

You both begin walking towards the school parking lot, chatting casually about the soon-to-come dance, then part ways at your respective vehicles.

As you're driving home, your stomach is doing flops and flips of excitement. You crank up the radio and sing along loudly to all of the cheesy love songs that come on. When you pull into the apartment complex parking lot, you see that your Bro is home.

Fuck, he was gonna be so proud that you finally asked John out. You park and hurry inside.

Bro is flipping through channels. "He said yes?" He doesn't even glance up at you.

"Yeah." You play it off cool, but you know that he can tell how excited you are.

You don't wait for an answer, instead heading upstairs to pick what you'll be wearing to the dance. Once in your room, you throw open your closet and peer inside, searching for something classy but not too formal. You pull out a red blazer. No, too flashy. Blue? No, not your color. When you finally settle on a plain white button-up with a black and red striped tie and black dress pants, half of your closet is strewn across the floor and it's already 5:45. Cursing under your breath at the supreme loss of time, you dress and run into the bathroom to fix your hair. You play around with it for a minute, but a minute turns into two, then three, and before you know it, thirty minutes have passed and your hair still- isn't- right!

You run your comb through it a final time before giving up and moving to lace up your shoes. As soon as you're ready, you race out the door, giving Bro a quick "later" as you go. As quickly as you can without messing up your look, you jump in your car and head over to John's.

This time, the ride isn't excited and cheerful with the radio blaring. You've cut the radio off so that you can take the moment to properly stew in your own anxiety. This was it, the moment you'd been dreaming of- a date with John Egbert. Not too many people can say that that's their dream, but you can. To you, nothing was cuter than those big baby blue's and those Timmy Turner teeth. No one but John could pull something like that off and still be as attractive.

Finally, you arrive at John's, pulling into his driveway completely unaware that you're damn near hyperventilating. You walk up to the door, heart racing and palms sweating, then knock. Mr. Egbert answers, and he stands there puffing on his pipe so tall and intimidating, that you probably deserve some kind of award for not pissing your pants right then and there.

"Hello, Dave, come in. John's almost ready." Says the man. You want to facepalm for being so scared; you knew Mr. Egbert and there was no nicer fellow.

You nod and walk in, taking off your shades and hanging them off the front of your shirt pocket out of respect for the elder Egbert. You don't have to wait too long, because soon John is walking down the stairs, dressed pretty much the same as you only with a blue tie and these outrageous blue dress shoes. You're feeling sort of crummy for only wearing your red Converse, but they were too ironic to not wear.

Albeit all that, John looks amazing. Well, he looked the same as always only dressed in semi-formal wear, but he looked _spectacular_ to you. His blue eyes stood out with his outfit, his messy black hair was perfectly askew, and you felt relieved to see no trace of the green slime ghost on his outfit.

"Hey, Dave." He says, blushing a little. You don't really know why, since it's only you he's talking to.

But then you're blushing too, and you sort of understand. "Sup, you ready to go?"

John nods and gives his dad a quick hug, a quick "I'm so proud" passed from father to son, then he's heading out the door and to your car with you. When you both get in and start the trip to the school, you can feel that John's nervous energy is practically spewing off of him.

Trying to be both suave and sweet, you reach over and take his hand in yours. You're relieved that John can't hear your heart thudding in your chest.

He looks over at you, evidently a little surprised, but then he smiles and squeezes your hand in his. That makes you feel a little better, and the rest of the trip is continued in the same comfortable silence.

When you get to the dance, John practically pulls you inside. "C'mon, you've got to dance with me, Dave!" He says gleefully, hand tugging yours along.

You force down a grin. "Okay, okay. I'm coming."

And you do dance, quite a bit actually. You were surprised to find that John was pretty good at dancing, body in time to the rhythm and beat. If you were to be totally honest, you felt very pale in comparison, but you tried to keep up. No one, not a single student, even glanced your way. They'd all pretty much accepted your friendship with John, knowing this would happen anyway.

By the time a slow song finally comes one, you're exhausted, but happy. You wrap your arms around John's waist while his go around your neck. Your face is buried in his soft black hair. You're completely and totally at ease, feeling happy and safe and loved.

You love John.

And? You've known this for awhile, so it isn't a big deal. You just hadn't told him yet. You're considering it now, because it's such an opportune moment, but you can't seem to get the words to come out of your throat.

"John, I-" Shit, it almost really happened that time. You pray John didn't hear tha-

"Yeah?" He says, looking up at you with those pretty blue eyes of his.

You bite your lip. To be or not to be that is the question, now spit it the fuck out, Strider.

"I love you." It comes out quiet and scared, not at all like you'd imagined it would.

John's face goes blank for a second and you seriously consider bolting the fuck out of there, but then his eyes get this weird sparkle to them and he grins. "R-Really?"

Not trusting yourself to speak, you nod.

"W-W-Wow... Dave, I love you, too."

Now it's your turn to stare blankly, which you do. Your head is spinning, your heart is hammering, and your blood is rushing through your ears. Then you're grabbing John's hand and pulling him through the throngs of other teenagers to stand outside, where you take his face in your hands and kiss him hard.

When you pull away, he gives you a funny look. "Why'd you take me out here just for that?"

You just shrug and mutter something about quiet, when in reality, that was how you'd imagined it would go, under the stars, just the two of you in love. You just wanted one thing to go according to plan.

John smiles up at you anyway, then wraps his arms around you in a hug. "Wanna go home and watch Con Air with me?" He asks when he pulls back.

The prospect of watching Con Air makes you want to stick your head in a wood chipper, but the prospect of snuggling with John on the couch in your PJs sounds like a godsent gift. You shrug and move to peck his lips. "Sure."

And you do, snuggled in fleece pajama bottoms and tee shirts with a bowl of popcorn to the side, John reciting every word beside you.

You can't believe you actually gave him the note.

* * *

><p><strong>Just a little Valentine's Day sumthin'-sumthin'.<strong>


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